When I told my mother, who lives in New England, that we were off to a Dickens event in Galveston this past weekend, she was momentarily perplexed. “What’s the connection?” she asked. “Did Dickens visit Galveston? Or write about it?”

I confessed that I had no idea and didn’t much care. For me, it’s all about the parade and people in top hats, capes and sultry Steampunky garb. And pirates. Who doesn’t love pirates? (Further investigation on the Galveston Historical Foundation website confirms that the event honors “a time when commercial and cultural ties provided a strong connection between London and Texas’ largest and richest city.”)

Bob Marley (AP)

My husband captured some sweet shots of the Queen’s Parade. It was a tad chilly, a tad rainy, and even though all the Scotch eggswere sold out — I’ll get you next year, my pretties — it was great.

The event is half-price if you dress in period costume. Last year, my kid said he wanted to go as ” the ghost of Bob Marley.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that “Jacob Marley” was the correct name for the Dickens character. Crikey. I would much rather spend the day with the ghost of Bob Marley, wouldn’t you?

My kid didn’t dress up, after all. But there’s always next year.

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John, the town crier.

John, the town crier.

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St. Nicholas.

St. Nicholas.

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Haven't I seen you on a bottle of gin?

Haven't I seen you on a bottle of gin?

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Nice hat. Sweet pink cheeks.

Nice hat. Sweet pink cheeks.

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Steampunk revelers, who look as if they belong in the new Sherlock Holmes movie.

Steampunk revelers, who look as if they belong in the new Sherlock Holmes movie.

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'Allo, mate.

'Allo, mate.

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This did NOT happen in Galveston, but on the way there. Driving out of Pearland, my husband spotted two eagles, just hanging out. He snapped this picture.

This did NOT happen in Galveston, but on the way there. Driving out of Pearland, my husband spotted two eagles, just hanging out. He snapped this picture.